


Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dreamwalking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-10
Updated: 2010-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An archangel ashamed of his past and a hunter broken by his destiny. In the middle of the end of the world, two souls come together, and slowly find their way back to their faith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On

For months after Carthage, Sam dreamt, and the dreams were a type of agony he had never experienced before.

He dreamt of a Hell he had never seen. In those dreams, he was almost always on the rack. Sometimes it was Alistair cutting into him, laughing at the color of his insides or how much he could make Sam scream. Sometimes it was Lucifer himself, lamenting the fact that if Sam had only listened, had only said _yes_ , this wouldn’t have been happening to him.

Sometimes it was Dean, with black eyes and a twisted smile and a hand that did not tremble.

He didn’t always dream of Hell, though. There were nights when he dreamt of Death. He never saw the horseman rise, but in his dreams he was a shadowy figure bringing unspeakable terror and ruin with him wherever he went. Sometimes he was with his brothers, the two that were still lurking somewhere, biding their time and waiting till the Apocalypse really kicked off. But mostly, he worked alone.

He dreamt almost every night of his family, his friends, the ones still here and the ones that he’d already lost. Of Ellen, and Jo, and Bobby, and Dean, and even Castiel. Of faces that belonged to people he’d saved, and those of friends he’d left behind. He saw them, and they were all dead, or dying, or already suffering unbearable tortures in the deepest recesses of the pit.

Sometimes, he even dreamt of the end of the world. Of what it would be like if Hell won. Blood running through the streets, bloated bodies everywhere, demons running rampant, feasting, partying. Reveling in the lack of humanity.

There were other dreams, less clear, but no less terrifying for their vagueness. Dreams he couldn’t possibly put words to, but that left him shaky and breathless and choking on screams.

Because he never _actually_ screamed. He woke up clutching his pillow and gasping out silent tears and trembling from head to foot…but he never made a sound. Refused to allow himself to burden his brother even more than he already had. He knew where these dreams were coming from – knew that it was Lucifer planting them in his head, trying to drive him to insanity, trying to get him to give that one word he so desperately craved. So he kept the screams bottled, and got through each day by inhaling coffee and splashing his face with cold water to try and lessen the dark circles under his eyes.

He knew that Dean knew there was something wrong, but they didn’t speak of it, and Sam continued on this way for a solid month.

And then…the dreams stopped. For three solid nights, he slept like the dead, and woke, if not well rested, then at least not with his heart pounding and his breath caught on a scream. He didn’t know why Lucifer stopped sending him the dreams that had been tormenting him, but he welcomed the reprieve and gladly threw himself into the next hunt with renewed determination to _end_ this thing.

It wasn’t until he awoke on the fourth morning that he realized what was strange about the lack of nightmares. Suddenly, it was clear that the nightmares weren’t the only things missing. He was stunned to realize he wasn’t dreaming _at all_. And sure, maybe he’d gone a night here and there, when he was so exhausted from a hunt that he slept deeper than the dead and didn’t dream. But it was rare. Sam had always been the sort of person to remember his dreams with startling clarity, and now there was nothing when he woke up except…blackness.

He wasn’t too proud to admit that it scared him more than a little, but he continued to keep quiet, determined not to bring it up to Dean or Castiel and give them one more thing to worry about on top of the Apocalypse.

The Apocalypse that _he_ started.

-666-

When Castiel found him, he was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the Arabian desert, leaning back on his hands, eyes turned up to the sun, mouth turned down into something that was either contemplative or simply unhappy. Maybe both.

Probably both.

His eyes slipped closed, the words that had been haunting him for weeks running through his head again, stripping him down to something less than what he was supposed to be, whatever that was anymore.

_This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family._

He couldn’t get those stupid words out of his head. Damn Dean fucking Winchester and his damned self-righteous anger, anyway. No matter how right or wrong he was. Gabriel’s jaw clenched and he opened his eyes again, still staring at the sun as though it would provide all the answers he was seeking.

“Hey, bro,” the archangel finally said when he felt Castiel’s presence, not bothering to look at him. His voice was quiet. The words were the same as the first time he’d seen Castiel again after so long, but the tone was something vastly different. More broken. He was a goddamned broken archangel, and wasn’t that just the most ironic thing of all?

“Gabriel,” Castiel greeted, stepping in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

Gabriel sighed, turned his gaze to Castiel. He winced a little when he saw how weak his brother’s grace was. That Castiel had made it here at all to find him was nothing short of a miracle. “Well, not that it’s really any of your business,” Gabriel said, a little tersely, “but I come here to think big thoughts and dream big dreams and, if I’m feeling really ambitious, maybe even plot evil and sadistic things. Since, y’know, that’s what I’m all about these days.”

“I’ve never believed that, Gabriel.”

Gabriel wondered how Castiel could possibly still have faith in him, but then, Castiel’s faith had always been unwavering. His faith in his father, his faith in _the right thing_ …his faith in the Winchesters. Gabriel didn’t deserve it, but if anyone was likely to still have any faith in him at all, it figured it would be Castiel. He frowned as he stood, the sand vanishing off of him the moment he was on his feet. His gaze strayed to the ground, and he wondered what had brought him so low that he, as an archangel, couldn’t stand to look a nearly fallen brother in the eyes.

He thought maybe he didn’t want to know, all things considered, but he asked Castiel anyway, “What do you want, little brother?”

Castiel had never been one to waste words. “Something is very wrong with Sam Winchester. Something to do with his dreams. I fear Lucifer is involved, but I…” He stopped, his jaw clenching. His tone changed, switching abruptly from the calm Gabriel had always associated with him and becoming frustrated, angry. “I can do nothing for him. I can’t even tell what’s causing it, anymore. I need your _help_ , Gabriel.”

The archangel watched the self-loathing cross Castiel’s face and realized that, while a part of it was because he was feeling so useless as his powers burned away like ashes, another part was having to swallow his pride to ask Gabriel for help. _Pride_. Something no angel was ever meant to feel, and yet here were two right in this very spot who’d both had to swallow their own fair share recently.

“I’m not sure how much help I can be,” Gabriel said, and he wasn’t saying no, which was almost as much of a surprise to him as it appeared to be to Castiel. He’d come here seeking answers within himself, but he hadn’t really expected for anything to change, not really. “The Winchesters don’t trust me. I don’t even know why _you_ trust me.” A sharp bark of laughter escaped him. “I don’t even know what I’m _doing_ anymore.”

Castiel tilted his head, and it was so familiar, so utterly _Castiel_ that Gabriel almost wanted to laugh again, but he was afraid this laughter would come out as more of a sob, and that, he refused to give in to. “You are helping us save this world,” he said, as if it was just that simple. That easy. “You are choosing a course of action that you know is right, because you’ve spent weeks now hiding, knowing exactly what it is you _should_ be doing, but too frightened to face it. Waiting for a reason, perhaps. And I am here, giving you one.” He took a step forward, placed his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Please, brother, help me. Help me save the Winchesters from a fate they do not want, and maybe find the redemption you seek in the process.”

It was amazing, this angel who was practically _not_ an angel anymore, leaving Gabriel so completely dumbfounded and speechless…two things Gabriel never was, either as an archangel or as a Trickster. He stared at Castiel for long moments. “Who _are_ you?”

And Castiel _smiled_. It was like a sucker-punch to the gut, seeing that expression on one who was slowly being brought so low. Gabriel had been here for so long, experienced so much of humanity during that time, but it was Castiel…newly rebellious and still so full of faith and love for a Father none of them believed was even alive anymore… _Castiel_ who seemed to know more about what being human really meant than Gabriel had ever managed to comprehend. “Dean’s been a good influence on you,” was all he could think to say.

The smile widened, and the angel replied, “He likes to think so.” There was a brief pause. “Are you coming, Gabriel?”

And the archangel could only give a single nod before stepping forward into the first day of a new beginning he never should have been granted.

-666-

Sam knew that with Castiel out on one of his searches, and with himself growing weaker and more exhausted by the day, the last thing they should have been doing was hunting down a nest of vampires. But someone had to do it, and more people were dying in this town every day, the vamps not taking a moment to think about how many people they were draining dry. Dean knew Sam wasn’t at the top of his game, could obviously see it in his eyes no matter how much Sam tried to hide it, but while he was concerned for his little brother, he clearly didn’t think Sam would let it affect his ability to hunt, because Sam was _never_ that stupid, to let things get that bad and not say anything.

 _Famous last words_ , Sam thought as he took a two-by-four to the gut and three vampires jumped him at once. He was dizzy, could barely stand up straight, and it wasn’t the injuries or the fighting that was making him feel that way. Lifting his limbs felt like he was dragging them through a pit of tar, the exhaustion overtaking him at the worst possible moment.

He could hear Dean across the room yelling something to him, but the words weren’t registering past the fuzzy feeling in his head. He lashed out, managed to get a vamp hard in the gut with an elbow, but it barely fazed that one, and it gave the other two the opening they were hoping for. Needle sharp teeth tore into his upper arm, and another bright flare of pain on his neck had him crying out. The vamp he’d briefly incapacitated took the two-by-four and got him hard across the back of his knees, and he tumbled to the ground.

He tried to call for Dean, even though he knew his brother was already busy fighting the rest of the nest, at least three or four vamps, but it didn’t matter because he couldn’t get his voice to work, and his vision was blacking out from a combination of terrible fatigue and now blood loss as three vampires feasted on him, the third having latched onto his hip. He barely even felt the pain anymore.

In a dim haze of barely-consciousness, he thought he saw a familiar tan trench coat, and it took his mind a moment to process what it meant. _Castiel_. But by then it was too late, and everything went dark.

He never heard the rage-filled bellow that made the ground tremble and the vampires quake with fear, never saw the blinding white light that filled the room. He certainly didn’t see the sword that Gabriel pulled from his very grace, or watch as he sliced swiftly and mercilessly through each and every vampire in the room.

And after it was over, he never felt the tug of hands lifting him, never heard the desperate cries trying to rouse him from something worse than simple unconsciousness.

He _was_ , however, aware of a deep warmth that filled him from the inside and had bursts of light erupting from behind his closed eyes. Of a voice that was not speaking English, not even really _speaking_ , but that resonated from somewhere deep inside him and told him to hold on, to fight the endless oblivion that kept trying to steal over him.

-666-

Gabriel was only peripherally aware of Castiel and Dean Winchester on the other side of the room, his brother pressing Dean’s face to his shoulder, his wings spread protectively over the hunter, blocking as much of the light Gabriel was radiating as possible. The rest of his attention was focused solely on the broken man in front of him.

Sam was mostly dead, and it had been a long time since Gabriel had needed to heal anyone. He was more comfortable wrapped in the skin of the Trickster than he was in his own true form, and it was making focus difficult. But Sam would die if he didn’t do this right, and he wouldn’t be able to go beyond the veil to bring him back if that happened. Not if he wanted to continue staying hidden from his brothers.

Of course, it was up for debate if he’d even be _able_ to stay hidden after all of this. And if he continued to fight…

But that was a worry for later, when Sam’s life wasn’t hanging in the balance. Light pulsed around him, and he pushed deeper, grasping tightly at Sam’s essence. _Come back_ , he said, his true voice as authoritative and demanding as it had once always been. _Come back to me **now** , Sam Winchester_. He sent tendrils of healing energy through his hands and into Sam’s body, mending the tears, making him whole once again even as he fought to keep Sam’s soul safely ensconced inside. It was difficult, especially for an angel not so out of touch with their brethren. Healing a human meant giving them a bit of angelic grace. A healing was a miracle, and came with a price to the angel that gave it. Gabriel had only healed one other before, and it was long before he’d left Heaven.

Sam’s soul fluttered weakly, becoming stronger as his body was healed. It was slow work, but Gabriel wasn’t giving up. He poured more energy into his charge, did so before he even realized that he’d thought of Sam _as_ his charge. He faltered when fear at the thought filled him, quickly regained himself when Sam’s soul slipped a little further. _You are not leaving!_ he growled, and gave a little more.

Castiel yelled in a language long dead, from what seemed like too far away. “Gabriel, you must stop! You’re giving too much!”

He didn’t listen, only focused steadily on the hunter at his feet. _It’s no more than you gave for Dean_ , he murmured, trusting his brother to protect the elder Winchester from the sound of his true voice.

Sam’s body shuddered, and finally, _finally_ , his soul latched on, stopped fighting to slip away. Gabriel released his hold carefully and drew his essence away from Sam’s. He came back to himself slowly, clawing his way back from what seemed a great distance, forcing himself back into the vessel that had contained him without fail for thousands of years. When he opened his eyes, Sam was gazing at him wide-eyed.

“Welcome back to the Real World,” Gabriel said, his voice rough as he fought to catch his breath. “We thank you for flying Air Angel and hope you enjoy a safe and pleasant journey.” He realized abruptly his hand was clenched around Sam’s hip, and he drew it away slowly, closing his eyes against the sight of the red, angry handprint seared into the flesh.

He sensed Sam shift away, heard him sit up, _felt_ his bewilderment. When he sighed and opened his eyes again, Sam’s hazel ones were blinking at him. “Gabriel?” the hunter said, confusion coloring his tone. “What are you _doing_ here? What…happened…”

His words trailed off, and Gabriel watched him take in the scene. Across the room, Dean was slowly pulling away from Castiel, whose wings had retracted when the danger had passed. Scattered about were corpses with wounds still smoking from a sword made of light and heat and power. Gabriel knew the scene would make no sense, doubted Sam even remembered most of the past day with how much exhaustion had claimed him. While he’d been healing him, the archangel had felt how sleep-deprived Sam had been. He was _sleeping_ , sort of, but as Castiel had suspected, his dreams were in trouble. They weren’t there at all.

Gabriel stood, glanced again at Castiel. “I need to go take care of something,” he said. When Castiel’s eyes flicked to Sam and back, he gave a small nod. “Won’t take long. Help these boys get home and patched up?”

“Of course,” Castiel replied softly.

Gabriel snapped his fingers, ignoring the twinned shouts of the two hunters, and was gone.

-666-

“Cas, what’s going on?”

The words mirrored those sitting on the tip of Sam’s tongue, but they came from Dean. Sam stayed sitting where he was, one knee drawn up with his elbow resting on it while he massaged gently at his forehead, where he could feel a massive tension headache building. He listened intently for Castiel’s answer, but it never came, at least not directly.

Instead, the angel stood and made his way over to Sam, taking his wrist gently, stopping the steady motion of his fingers on his forehead. “That won’t help your headache, Sam. It’s being caused by too little real sleep, too much pressure that’s not being relieved by rest. Gabriel has gone to try and…fix the problem.”

Sam’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean, too little real sleep? And…what is Gabriel even _doing_ here?”

Castiel’s gaze was steady, firm and unrelenting. “You should have told me you weren’t dreaming, Sam. Before things got this bad.”

Sam flushed, looking away. “I…didn’t want to give everyone one more thing to worry about. I didn’t think it was a huge deal,” he muttered.

“How long?”

It took Sam a long moment to answer. “Two weeks since I can remember last dreaming,” he whispered. “But I hadn’t been sleeping well for at least a month before that. Lucifer…” He stopped, swallowed, couldn’t continue as the images from those nights flashed through his mind.

Castiel nodded. “Lucifer sent dreams…images to you. Troubling ones. He’s trying to get to you in other ways now. He hopes to drive you partially mad, I think, and then offer you a choice to end it. There are very few creatures that can take dreams away altogether, and for one to come after you intentionally…that is Lucifer’s doing as well.”

“I sort of thought so.”

“You _sort of thought so?_ ” Dean, now, striding over with his fists clenched, standing over Sam with an expression that was torn between wanting to hold his brother, protect him, fight for him, and wanting to punch him in the face. “And you didn’t think it was a good idea to _tell us_ about this little development? Jesus Christ, Sammy.”

Sam looked up, expression tortured. “It’s just one more thing we couldn’t change, Dean,” he said. “One more thing to worry about. I couldn’t add to that, not when…”

“Not when _what?_ ” Dean growled. “Don’t stop now, you’re on a roll.”

“Not when all of this is my fault anyway,” Sam said in a broken whisper, staring at the ground.

“God damn you, Sam.” Before Sam could blink, Dean reached down, yanked him up by the arm, and shoved him backwards. Sam’s back hit the wall hard and he stared wide-eyed as Dean pushed himself right into Sam’s space. “I am so _sick_ of hearing about the damn Apocalypse being your fault, or my fault, or anyone’s goddamn fault. It _is_ , it _happened_ , and the best we can do is _fix it_. But we can’t fucking _do that_ if you make yourself so _goddamn weak_ with exhaustion that you almost pass out during a fight and _get us all killed_. You hear me, you goddamn idiot?”

Sam nodded very slowly, hardly daring to move, hardly daring to even _breathe_ for fear of setting Dean off more.

Dean searched his eyes, and seemingly satisfied with what he found, tugged Sam forward into a bone-crushing hug. “Almost fucking lost you. _Again_. You gotta stop doing this to me, Sammy.”

Taken aback, because he truly had no idea what had happened, Sam hesitantly wrapped his arms around Dean, glanced over at Castiel with a pleading expression. “What happened?” he asked desperately.

-666-

There was a part of Gabriel – a part he’d thought long dead – that regretted his need to destroy the creature. Baku were rare, generally helpful instead of dangerous, and never threatening. It was like destroying a large supernatural dog, only this one had been twisted and corrupted by Lucifer, like so many other things, and no longer had any sense of what its purpose on this plane had once been. Instead of devouring nightmares and giving people comforting rest, it had targeted Sam, was eating _all_ of his dreams, and slowly killing him. So Gabriel had no choice. But he took no pleasure in the destruction, felt pity for what the creature had become because of his brother.

It was that, more than anything, that made his decision final. He was going to help the Winchesters. He was going to choose a side, was going to fight against both Heaven and Hell, and was quite possibly going to die by either Lucifer or Michael’s hand.

It had been a long time since he’d felt like he had a true purpose. If he had to die for it now, then so be it.

-666-

Sam stood in the shower long after he’d already finished washing, steam curling around him in wispy spirals as he stared down at his left hip, at the red mark seared into his flesh…into his very _soul_ , if Castiel was to be believed. As his brother bore a mark very similar, it was a safe bet that the angel knew what he was talking about. He traced the handprint with his fingertips, lightly because it still felt sensitive to the touch.

Castiel had recounted for him exactly what had happened, how he and Dean had jumped at a lead on the vampire nest and gone in without waiting for any sort of backup, how he’d been taken down and nearly killed by three at once, how Castiel had returned with Gabriel almost too late…

How Gabriel had cut the entire nest down in one fell swoop, breaking out into his true form for the first time in millennia…

How he’d saved Sam’s life by sacrificing bits of his own grace to heal him and tether his soul to this world…

He’d told both Sam and Dean a little about his conversation with Gabriel, and how he’d convinced the archangel to help. Dean didn’t trust Gabriel, thought Castiel was being naïve because he was so desperate to be able to rely on anyone in his family. Sam wasn’t so sure, though. He couldn’t remember much about those moments when he was apparently dying, but he remembered warmth, and faith, and light…and _caring_. He’d _felt_ Gabriel’s desperation to save him, and his relief when he’d succeeded. Gabriel had truly cared about whether he lived or died, and it wasn’t because he was supposed to be Lucifer’s vessel. It was too pure a feeling for that.

But that didn’t mean Sam had the slightest clue how to deal with such a revelation.

He dragged his eyes away from the vivid handprint, scrubbed a hand over his face with a weary sigh. He’d gotten through the rest of the day feeling like that stupid pink energizer bunny, angelic grace apparently being some type of rejuvenating drug to his system. But it was wearing away now, weeks without rest catching up with him, and by the time he hit the pillows, he was already dead to the world.

Sleep tugged him deep into dreaming, and it was while dreaming that he remembered why he no longer wanted to be able _to_ dream.

  
“Sam. It’s good to see you again, I’ve missed you these last couple of weeks.”

He shuddered at the sound of that voice, the one that haunted him in his weakest moments. He turned and found himself face-to-face with Lucifer. He tensed, his hand fisting almost of its own accord. “Get out of my head,” he growled.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, mouth twisting into a smirk. “You know, I actually quite like it here,” he said. “It’s been difficult, staying away while your dreams were being slowly devoured. How was that for you, anyway?”

“Peachy,” Sam said sarcastically. “And clearly it doesn’t matter anymore, because I can dream again, which means whatever was stopping me is probably dead.”

Lucifer made a small sound of agreement. “That is true. My little brother did quite a number on the creature. If you’re curious, by the way, it was a Baku. They’re Japanese in origin, and quite useful creatures. It took me some time to train it to do what I needed, but once it started its work, it was a wonder to behold. A shame, Gabriel striking it down, but…well, here’s the beauty, Sam…” The smirk widened. “You’re in a no-win situation right now. I can train another dream eater if I must. So either I do that, and you lose your focus so much that I find you or you die, in which case I can very easily bring you back myself, or I visit you nightly and plant images in your head that make you scream until you lose your mind.”

Sam was trembling, but he didn’t know if it was fear or rage or just sheer hatred making him do so. He did know that Lucifer wasn’t lying. He knew that he was basically doomed. He couldn’t take much more of what he’d gone through the last several weeks, not if he hoped to keep his sanity.

Which meant Lucifer was going to win.

 _No_. Sam closed his eyes, took a deep breath and released it slowly. _No, I won’t let that happen_. He reached inside himself, into a place he’d closed the door on so long ago, had locked away and promised to never look for again. He reached into the part of his heart where he kept his faith.

He prayed. And even if it wasn’t to God, even if all the rest of Heaven had abandoned him, there was one being who he thought may answer. _Gabriel, please…please help me_.

“What are you doing, Sam?” Lucifer asked, amused. “Don’t you know that God can’t hear you any longer? If he ever did. Prayer is a fruitless endeavor that won’t get you anywhere except more lost.”

Sam might have answered him, might have tried to find some sarcastic quip to try and block the devil’s words from penetrating, but he never had a chance, because he blinked, blinked again, and quite suddenly he was staring up at the cracked ceiling of the motel room.

The relieved sigh escaped him in a rush, and he looked over to where Gabriel was sitting in a comfortable-looking chair, ankles crossed where his feet were propped on the bed beside Sam, arms folded casually over his chest.

“You came,” Sam murmured, surprised in spite of himself. He’d hoped, had, quite literally, prayed…but seeing the archangel actually here still had him staring in near disbelief.

Gabriel snorted. “Course I came. Even if you _weren’t_ my… Well, even if you weren’t Sam Winchester, it’s been a long time since anyone used my real name in prayer. Means something, when you call on a specific angel.”

“Even one trying to forget he’s an angel?” Sam asked quietly, still unsure of how to take Gabriel, or how to act around him.

“Yeah. Even then.” Gabriel’s eyes zeroed in on him. “Especially when that angel is trying to remember how to _be_ an angel again.”

Sam didn’t think there was anything he could say to that that wouldn’t sound trite or somehow ungrateful, so he looked away, glanced to the other side of the room. He was surprised to see an empty bed, clearly unused. “Where’s Dean?” he asked, confused, propping himself up and looking back at Gabriel.

The archangel shrugged. “Probably sleeping soundly with his own angel watching over him,” he said with a small smirk. It softened a little, almost imperceptibly, when Sam’s confused expression didn’t fade. “You’re still dreaming, Sam. I pulled you away from Lucifer, hid you from him, that’s all. You’ve got a lot of missed sleep to make up for already. Didn’t want to make it worse than it already is.”

Sam blinked as he absorbed all that, blinked again as his mind processed, and then his eyes widened. He sat up fully, grabbed Gabriel’s arm before his actions caught up to him. The archangel raised an eyebrow at him, looking far too amused. Sam flushed and pulled back quickly.

“Yes?” Gabriel said. “Clearly you’ve had an Important Thought.” The capitalized letters could be clearly heard in the gently mocking tone.

“I just…” Sam ran a hand through his hair, thinking hard, before raising his eyes to Gabriel’s again. “Could you do this all the time? Is that even possible?”

“Do what? Hide you from Lucifer?”

Sam shook his head. “I’m already hidden from Lucifer. It’s my dreams that are a problem. He can find me in my dreams no matter where I am physically. And if he trains another dream eater, I’m screwed.” His eyes were imploring, and even as he spoke, he was having a hard time coming to terms with pleading with Gabriel for anything. But this was too important, and Cas was sure the archangel was serious about helping… “Could you protect my dreams? Even if not all the time, then some of it? Enough to keep me functioning, at least.”

Gabriel gazed at him intently for long moments, before finally sitting up fully and leaning forward, eyes locked on Sam’s. “You need to be sure that’s what you want. Yes, I can hide your dreams from Lucifer and his pet Baku. Make him have to work to find them. I probably won’t always succeed. He’ll probably get through eventually. And to do it, I have to be here myself. I’ll have to dreamwalk here, with you, every night. You sure you’re down with seeing that much of me? Because honestly Sam, you don’t _like_ me that much.”

Sam took a deep breath, released it slowly. He didn’t even have to consider. “This is important, Gabriel. If I had to sacrifice something of myself to make sure Lucifer couldn’t reach me, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Seeing more of you isn’t really asking all that much, in the long run.” He tried for a smile, let his lips quirk upward a little. “We could try to get along and not, y’know, kill each other.”

Gabriel gasped, putting his hands over his heart. His eyes sparkled. “ _Sammy!_ Are you saying you want to be _friends_ with me?”

Sam threw a pillow at him, laughed when it hit the archangel square in the face. “I’m saying that stranger things have happened than an angel and a hunter being friends. And it’s _Sam_.”

There was genuine warmth in Gabriel’s eyes as he slowly grinned. “Then yeah, _Sam_ , I think maybe I can help you.”

Relief filled Sam, and he leaned back with a smile. “Thank you, Gabriel. Cas said we could trust you, that you wanted to help. I’m…really glad he was right.” His voice softened and he glanced away, his hand coming to rest over his hip before he was even aware of moving it. “And…thank you for today. For…saving my life.”

Gabriel looked away as well for a moment when Sam’s eyes rose to meet his again, but he eventually pulled them back to Sam’s and shrugged. “Don’t really need to thank me for that.”

“Castiel told us what it costs for an angel to heal a human.” Sam didn’t want to push, but he wanted Gabriel to know that he understood exactly what the archangel had done for him.

“Yeah, well, my little brother apparently talks too much,” Gabriel muttered. “Look, it really wasn’t a big deal. I’d do it again if I had to. World doesn’t stand much of a chance without the Winchester brothers, y’know?”

Sam wasn’t sure how true that was or wasn’t, but an archangel having faith in him caused warmth to flood his whole being, and he flushed and looked away again, not knowing how to respond. He heard Gabriel chuckle, and then quite suddenly two fingers were pressed to his forehead and he came awake with a gasp, blinking at the bright sunlight filtering into the motel room.

-666-

Gabriel returned to them late in the day, after the Winchesters and Castiel had already been on the road for several hours and were looking for a place to stop for the night. He appeared in the back of the car next to Castiel and sketched a wave toward the front seat. “S’up, guys?”

The car swerved as Dean jerked the steering wheel out of reflex, and he let out a string of curses that had Gabriel smirking. Castiel only sighed and shook his head, and Sam turned in his seat to offer the archangel a small grin. Dean scowled at his younger brother, then looked in the mirror to scowl at Gabriel. Gabriel raised an eyebrow and took a generous bite of his chocolate bar.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked, displeasure coloring his tone. “How’d you even find us this time?”

Gabriel slid his eyes to Sam’s, and the hunter ducked his head and avoided Dean’s glare. “I…may have texted him the location.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Of course you did. You _like_ making nice with monsters. I forgot.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, sharply. “Are we really going to have this conversation again? Gabriel saved both of your lives yesterday.”

“Aww, have you guys been talkin’ about me?” Gabriel asked, holding a hand to his heart. He saw Sam smothering laughter. “That’s so _sweet!_ ” No one replied, but he was gratified to see Castiel’s lips twitching, and Dean’s knuckles turning white where they were clenched around the steering wheel.

In the passenger seat, Sam touched his brother’s arm and said something in a low voice that had Dean shooting a dark look at him. Gabriel watched them interact, but didn’t pry to figure out what they were saying both with their eyes and their words, not willing to start crossing lines when he was just beginning to earn their trust. Well, some of them, anyway.

He was pretty sure Dean Winchester was _never_ going to trust him. He was also pretty sure he didn’t blame him. But it didn’t matter, because his main concern at this point was Sam.

The rest of the ride was uncomfortable for almost all of them, but Gabriel had already decided he wasn’t going anywhere unless Sam himself told him to. He’d taken the youngest Winchester as his charge, had done so without thought to the consequences. For the first time in a long time, he had a true purpose, and he was sticking with it, one way or another.

Castiel had clearly not lost his ability to read thoughts, because his expression was soft and pleased as he gazed at Gabriel, who very deliberately didn’t look at him again.

  
The motel they finally chose was typical of the Winchester’s usual tastes, and made Gabriel want to sigh with sad resignation. The room smelled like stale smoke, and questionable stains dotted the walls, the bedspreads, the floors…pretty much everything. The colors were loud and almost painful to look at. The TV didn’t work (that, he surreptitiously fixed with a snap of his fingers), and the mini-fridge made a strange humming sound.

Across the room, Dean was already conked out, snoring loudly on his bed. Castiel stood at the window, gazing out at the cars that passed by every few minutes and probably contemplating his existence the way he usually did these days. Gabriel wished there was something he could say to comfort the only one of his brothers who’d been able to get through to him, but he didn’t know what there was _to_ say. Castiel had made his choice, didn’t seem to regret it at all. Still, it made Gabriel ache to see such a once-bright grace fading so rapidly.

Sam came out of the bathroom and lay down on the bed Gabriel was perched on, folding his arms back behind his head and staring up at the ceiling.

Gabriel tilted his head, glancing down at the hunter. “You’re sure you want me to do this?” he asked. “Sure you want me in your head so much?”

Sam took a breath and nodded, managed a small grin. “Better you than Lucifer.”

The archangel snorted. “Says you.” But he leaned over Sam, hesitated only for a moment before brushing his fingers across his forehead.

He followed him into the dreamscape without a second thought.

  
That Sam’s subconscious conjured a library as his personal safe haven shouldn’t have surprised the archangel. He stared around with a raised eyebrow at the tall shelves built into the walls of the cavernous room, each stacked to the brim with all kinds of books, in all shapes and sizes, from all different times and places. Ladders were placed throughout to allow for easier acquisition of a wanted volume, and staircases were hidden in nooks to get to the second and third floors.

High above him was a beautiful domed window that shot crystal beams of sunlight throughout the room, and directly in the middle of the room was Sam. He was seated in a well-worn, comfortable looking leather chair, his head leaned back and his eyes closed, looking more relaxed than Gabriel could ever remember seeing him before. There was a large oak table in front of him with books scattered across it, and within arm’s length, a beautiful antique standing floor lamp.

“Nice place you got here,” Gabriel said, genuinely impressed. Most humans didn’t have dreamscapes as detailed – as real-seeming – as this one was.

From the chair, Sam smiled softly, not bothering to open his eyes. “It’s been so long since I’ve been here. Used to be my own little escape from reality.” He cracked an eye open. “S’it weird that I always had so much control over where I ended up in my dreams before Lucifer?”

Gabriel shrugged, walking over to a shelf and plucking out a book at random. “Not so much,” he said, flipping through. “Some people do. Especially psychics. Or people with demon blood.” He slanted a glance over at Sam, saw the tension creep back into his shoulders. “If it makes you feel better, your brother has his own dreamscape as well, when he’s not having nightmares about Hell.”

Sam visibly relaxed a bit. “I never knew that. Not one of those things me and Dean would normally talk about.”

“Could be a vessel thing,” Gabriel said. “I’m not really sure, but I doubt it’s a demon blood thing.” He tossed a wink over at Sam and went back to his perusal of the book he was holding.

Scratch detailed. The book in his hands was a full volume, with no mistakes or missing words, of Gaiman and Pratchett’s Good Omens. This dreamscape was _epic_.

Sam was watching him from the chair, so he walked over and snapped his fingers, settling into his own overstuffed chair when it appeared across from Sam’s. “Don’t mind if I join you, do you?”

“Course not,” Sam replied, his grin crooked and adorable, the type of grin that would have made Gabriel flush if he was a little more human. Somehow, he was getting the feeling this wasn’t going to end well for him. The hunter picked up his own book from the table and settled back comfortably with it.

Gabriel spent as much time watching Sam just be _Sam_ for once as he did reading one of his favorite books to come out of the twentieth century. It was a long night, and somehow he didn’t feel like he wasted a single moment of it.

-666-

It hadn’t taken Sam long to get used to Gabriel’s presence, in his dreams or in his waking life, and in some ways, he thought maybe that should worry him more than it did. But it had been a week, a week with no nightmares, no sleep deprivation, no _Lucifer_ , and even Dean was starting to come around. When they’d gone out to breakfast that morning, he’d even given Gabriel a friendly-ish smirk along with his usual eyeroll when the archangel had asked for chocolate chip pancakes.

The smile Castiel had graced them with in that moment had practically blinded _Sam_ , and it hadn’t even been directed at him. That Dean wasn’t seeing spots the rest of the day was pretty amazing, in his opinion.

Most of the time, in his dreamscape, they didn’t even really speak. They sat across from each other, content to simply read and enjoy some peace and quiet, away from the insanity their lives had become. Sam couldn’t put into words how grateful he was for what the archangel was doing for him, but the one time he’d tried to thank him, Gabriel had waved it off and gone back to his book, eyes distant, even more quiet than he usually was here in this place.

Tonight, it seemed, was going to be different than normal, because Gabriel was wandering in front of the shelves, clearly restless. “What’s up?” Sam spoke him from his usual seat as he watched Gabriel pace.

“Bored,” was the reply, and he smothered a laugh. Knowing what little he did of the archangel-slash-Trickster, he wasn’t that surprised.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asked. “I mean, I don’t really know how this dreamwalking thing works, but we could go somewhere else if you want. I’m not all that picky.”

Gabriel looked over at him with his head tilted just slightly to the side, eyes considering. “Where would you go, if you could go anywhere in your dreams? I know this is your usual haunt, which is why you have so much control over it, but…c’mon, you have to have somewhere in mind. Nobody’s this boring _all_ the time.”

Thinking he should maybe be offended, Sam nevertheless gave a shrug, contemplating the question. “I…dunno. Never really thought about it.”

A few seconds passed, and Gabriel walked over to him. “You trust me?” he asked, his gaze sharp on Sam, like he was almost afraid of the answer.

Sam’s eyebrow raised. “You’re _here_ , aren’t you? Not many people I’d let into my head if I _didn’t_ trust them. Why, you got something in mind?”

In answer, Gabriel took another step forward so that he was right in front of Sam, leaned down, and pressed two fingers to Sam’s forehead.

Sam blinked, and was suddenly…

…in _Lawrence_.

 _What the hell?_ He looked over to Gabriel, who was watching him with a small smile, vastly different from the smirk he usually wore. “Gabriel, what are we doing here?” he breathed, looking around the house. He didn’t recognize it, not the way it was here and now, but it was clearly the house where he’d lived out the first six months of his life. Sunlight streamed in from the windows, a breeze ruffling the curtains where they were open to let summer inside. He thought he could even smell a goddamn apple pie baking in the oven.

“Well, it’s not really a dream so much as a memory,” the archangel replied, looking around. Sam thought he might be purposely avoiding his gaze. “Thought maybe since we had so much free time, you’d want to get a glimpse at some of the few good ones you had buried in that head of yours.”

Almost on cue, Sam heard two distinct voices coming from outside. One, he recognized from long hours on the road, going as far back as he could remember without angelic assistance. The other…

“Mom?” he whispered, as the door opened and Mary Winchester came in with a soft smile and gentle laughter, her oldest son trailing behind her babbling wildly, with his hands flailing like mad. She was pushing a stroller, and inside… “Oh, God.”

Sam swayed, dizzy with the rush of emotions as he watched her reach in, watched as she lifted baby Sam out and cradled him gently, rocking him in her arms as she continued to listen to Dean’s rambling. Gabriel’s hand on his arm steadied him, kept him grounded, but he couldn’t look at the archangel right now, too much going on in his head and his heart and his soul as he saw his mother – really saw her, as more than a spirit or a hallucination or a photograph – for the first time.

“Momma, c’n I hold Sammy?” four-year-old Dean asked after a moment, green eyes wide as he reached up to tug at her jeans.

Mary smiled indulgently, brushing a hand over baby Sam’s forehead as he gurgled up at her happily. “Sure, Dean, let’s go into the living room so you can sit on the couch. You remember how I showed you to hold you arms so he doesn’t get hurt?”

“Uh huh!” he yelled, racing into the family room. Mary laughed again and breezed past Sam and Gabriel where they stood staring as she followed him. Sam’s eyes were bright as he watched from the doorway, watched her help Dean place his arms correctly, watched her gently lay him – baby him – in his brother’s careful hold.

“You were about two months old here,” Gabriel said, his voice quiet. Sam nodded, distracted as he watched Dean murmur to the baby in his arms, big brother words of love and comfort and happiness. “Do you want to see another one? We still have some time.”

Sam finally turned away, his throat tight and his eyes burning with unshed tears…tears that were sorrowful for all that he’d lost in his past, and joyful for all that he’d been given today. “I, uh…I’d kinda like to go back. If that’s okay. But…maybe tomorrow?”

Gabriel’s eyes were softer than Sam had ever seen them. “Sure. We can do that,” he said, reaching up. A gentle stroke of fingers, and they were back in the library, Sam in his chair with his eyes closed, breathing deeply in silent contemplation, and Gabriel sitting quietly across from him, just observing the hunter for long, unhurried moments.

 

-666-

Days went by, and with each one Gabriel showed Sam more memories, the happiest ones he could pick out of Sam’s head, ones full of laughter and family and, as much as he could find, _Mary_. Sam had no real memory of his mother, nothing he could call upon and bring instantly to the forefront of his mind. All he had were mostly-forgotten fragments of images from when he was far too young to remember, and Gabriel could help give some of that back. He wanted to.

He didn’t allow himself to stop to consider _why_ he wanted to. Didn’t stop to wonder exactly _why_ Sam’s happiness was becoming so important to him. And if Castiel’s gaze in the waking world was starting to linger on him for longer than was necessary, if the comments he directed toward Gabriel were a bit too pointed…well, the archangel didn’t stop to think about that, either.

Sam’s soul was brightening, day by day, and something within Gabriel sang with joy as he saw it.

He expected to continue on this way for as long as he could get away with it, giving Sam this bit of joy every night as he hid his dreams from Lucifer, but Sam startled him with a request nearly two weeks after he showed him that first memory. They were in the library, where they always started out, Sam taking a few moments to relax while Gabriel paged through a volume of Shakespeare, giving him time to do so. The hunt they’d been on the past few days had taken its toll on Sam and his brother, and Gabriel was limited in what he could do to help…the longer he stayed with the Winchesters, the greater danger of the other angels finding him. Most days, he vanished as soon as Sam awoke. Even being there at night protecting Sam’s dreams was a risk. That one, he was willing to take for the hunter’s sanity.

“Hey Gabriel?” Sam spoke from his chair, and when Gabriel looked over, his eyes were focused intently on the archangel. “I’d like to do something different tonight…but I’m not sure…”

“Not sure of what?” Gabriel asked, sauntering over and flopping into his own chair. He tried to ignore how disturbingly happy it made him that he had his own spot in Sam’s dream sanctuary. “Pretty much told you we could do whatever you wanted, remember?” Like he’d really deny Sam anything.

“I want to…” Sam stopped, looked like he was figuring out how to word his request. “You’ve shown me so much of my _own_ life, and I’m…beyond grateful to have had the chance to see. My mom…she was pretty amazing, and it means the world to have gotten to see that. So…thank you. Really. _Thank you_. I just…if I see any more…I don’t want to start wondering ‘what if’, y’know? I don’t want to start resenting these memories and feeling bitter that it couldn’t have really been my life.”

Gabriel nodded. “Guess I can understand the mentality. Anytime you want to see more, though…”

Sam smiled. “I’ll let you know.”

“So. What d’you wanna do instead?” Gabriel asked, manifesting himself a Twizzler to chew on while Sam stayed silent for a few more minutes.

He very nearly did something as unangelic as choking when Sam finally answered. “Actually, I kind of…want to see more of _your_ life.”

Gabriel stared. “ _Why?_ ” he asked. “I mean, not that I’m not flattered that you think I’m that interesting, but. Seriously. Why?” He swallowed, cursed himself for the too-human reaction because he was a lot of things these days, but _human_ was not one of them.

“I want to understand you, Gabriel,” Sam said softly, his gaze determined.

“I don’t… Sam, there’s nothing good, or kind, or… _righteous_ about anything I’ve done. I left Heaven, and I took the disguise you first saw in Crawford Hall, and I let it consume me. I’m not proud of what I was…what I _am_. There’s no reason for you to want to see that, any of it.” Gabriel lowered his head, closed his eyes. “The things you’ve seen already that have been caused by me are bad enough for a hundred lifetimes.”

“Gabriel, everything you were _then_ led to who you are now, at this moment,” Sam said gently. “And who you are now… I’d like to think that person has become a friend.”

Gabriel gave a bitter bark of laughter. “Why would you ever even _want_ to be friends with me? After everything I put you and your brother through?”

“Well, I can’t speak for Dean obviously, but you’re not the same person anymore. And…I sort of understand why you did it.” Sam’s eyes went distant. He was clearly remembering, and Gabriel wished to God he wouldn’t. “I just… You don’t have to, obviously, but I’d like to see. To understand. If you’re okay with it.”

Gabriel wasn’t. He _really, really_ wasn’t okay with it. But he had no willpower to say no to Sam, and if Sam wanted to understand him…well, he deserved that chance, after everything Gabriel had done to him, didn’t he? “Okay, Sam,” he murmured, chancing a look back up at the hunter. “Look, first though…for what it’s worth…I am sorry. About all of it. I know it’s not enough.”

“It’s enough.” Sam’s eyes were kind. “It’s more than enough, the Trickster offering a genuine apology.” He grinned a little. “And everything you’re doing to help me… You don’t even owe me an apology. Seriously.”

The archangel could do nothing more than stare incredulously for a long while. “You can’t possibly be for real,” he said, shaking his head slowly. Then he sighed. “You sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure,” Sam replied.

Gabriel closed his eyes again, took a breath, and snapped his fingers.

-666-

That first night, Gabriel showed him the Menominee tribe of North America, where he told the hunter he was called Coyote. Sam watched the Trickster as he moved invisibly among the people, spreading amusement and chaos as easily as breathing, using mostly harmless pranks to have some fun wherever he deemed it necessary. He seemed to have no plans to take his trickery any further, until he found something that noticeably angered him.

The tribe had been a peaceful one for hundreds of years, but the new chief had apparently grown bloodthirsty, and was on the verge of leading his people into a war none could have hoped to survive. Coyote dug deeply into the chief’s mind and found his biggest fear, and with a snap of his fingers, set a great white bear on him as he was scouting his enemy’s land. The man’s last moments were spent screaming for mercy, begging the people he had declared war on to save him.

Sam watched as the Menominee people fell to their knees in gratitude upon hearing on the chief’s death, watched as mothers cradled their babies and clutched at their mates, tears of joy staining their faces. He watched as the two tribes came together in peace and celebration.

He watched Coyote stand smirking over the mutilated corpse of the chief, and he watched Gabriel bow his head in shame. He reached out silently and laid a hand on the archangel’s shoulder.

  
The second night, Gabriel brought him to a village in Denmark, sometime during the Viking Age as far as Sam could tell, and informed him with a twist of his lips that here, he was known as Loki. It was winter, and bitterly cold, but Gabriel wove his grace around them to protect Sam from the worst of it, leaving Sam to wonder how a _memory_ could be powerful enough to make him feel the cold to begin with.

Invisible and silent as wraiths, they followed the Trickster into a small, dingy-looking longhouse toward the outskirts of the settlement. Inside, a low fire burned in the grate, barely giving off enough heat to feel at all. There were only two people inside…a particularly brutish-looking man who stood drinking ale, and the woman he turned to beat on every few minutes, when she dared make a sound. It was clear that beating her wasn’t the only thing he’d done to her, and Sam’s blood boiled. The memory changed, became a new night, a new cup, a new woman. And then it happened again. And again.

The final time, they followed the man and Loki as he left the village on an errand of some sort. It didn’t take long from the time he was out of eyesight of the village when there came the familiar sound of a finger-snap, and the man was suddenly confronted with an incandescently beautiful woman. She had flowing locks of straw-colored hair, plump lips that formed into a ready smile, a curvaceous body that had the man leering with dark intent.

Ten minutes later, the man was dead, bound and gagged and choked with his own manhood, and left rotting on the road where he’d fallen.

Loki laughed, and Gabriel turned away in disgust. Sam brushed his arm gently, a silent pillar of understanding and support.

  
The third night, Sam was taken to someplace in Africa, and Gabriel told him that these people called him Anansi. Sam finally gave him a raised eyebrow is disbelief, and he smirked a little. “Only ever been one Trickster to walk this Earth, Sammy. He just got around a lot.”

Sam, too busy processing the implications of all that the statement entailed, never commented on the use of the nickname as he looked around, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes from the hot midday sun.

There was a large group of people here, a man with some sort of heavy whip, herding the rest, both men and woman, and all naked, into a large caravan. They were all bound, their eyes downcast and deadened, brutal lashings from the whip scarred across their bodies.

The Trickster was watching from his vantage point in the distance, his eyes dark as he watched the man climb in and the caravan roll away. Sam watched him raise a hand and snap his fingers. The caravan shuddered to a stop.

All was silent for long moments, and then the group of people who had been bound and broken only moments before were leaping out, gesturing wildly, running away as fast as they could. The trader himself never exited. Gabriel waved a hand, and the scene shifted, became night. A new group had appeared and they were dragging the sleeping trader out, putting him in chains, marking him with a brand, and he came awake screaming and wide-eyed.

Anansi’s eyes glittered in the deepening twilight and he surveyed the scene proudly. Gabriel turned away, his jaw set, and Sam reached out and grasped his hand once, squeezing it gently.

-666-

Gabriel didn’t stop there. Each night, he showed Sam a new memory, though each was almost physically painful for him to endure. He showed him China, where he’d been Nezha, and Rome, where he’d been called Mercury, and Greece even before all of them, where he’d been known as Hermes. He spent a long time wondering how he’d allowed himself to be so consumed by the Trickster. He never went after those who weren’t deserving of his attention, but neither did he ever show remorse, or even pity for those he found. He’d had _fun_ , finding new and creative ways to mete out justice. It was almost sickening, and the more he remembered what it was to be an angel, the more he hated what he’d been for so long before meeting the Winchesters. Before they and Castiel had dragged him back to himself.

Sam saw all of it and more, saw the Trickster’s gleeful amusement, and saw Gabriel’s crushing agony over what he’d allowed himself become. Not once did he look on the archangel with judgment, only ever with kindness. Understanding. _Forgiveness_.

When he couldn’t take anymore, Gabriel brought them back to the library, which had somehow become _his_ safe haven as much as it was Sam’s. He sank into a chair, rubbed a hand over his face.

“Gabriel?” Sam asked softly, standing behind the chair and placing a hand on his shoulder. Gabriel realized rather abruptly that it had been thousands of years since he’d been touched so often. “Are you all right?”

“Not so much,” the archangel answered as honestly as he could. In truth, he was exhausted…bone-weary and aching, and all he wanted to do after remembering so much was to forget again.

“I’m sorry. I should never have forced you to…”

“To what?” Gabriel sighed. “Come to terms with my sins?” He gave a bark of laughter, full of self-loathing. “’Bout time I did, don’t you think?”

“Gabriel…” Sam came around to the other side, knelt down and caught Gabriel’s eyes. “Everything you did was because your family hurt you. You never hurt anyone who was innocent, never…wiped out whole towns, or did half the terrible things your brothers have.”

“Doesn’t matter. Fact is, I hurt people, and I enjoyed it. It wasn’t about being righteous, or serving justice to those deserving of it. I had fun, being a pagan god… I did it for the pure pleasure.” The words made Sam wince, and Gabriel heard them echo oddly in the hunter’s mind. Not his voice, but Dean’s. He cringed, but couldn’t take them back.

“You’re not him anymore,” Sam said firmly. “Or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You wouldn’t be here, trying so hard to be _Gabriel_ again.”

“The Trickster is still a part of me, Sam.”

“Of course, and he always will be,” the hunter acknowledged. “I still have demon blood in me, still have darkness that I can’t ever get rid of. It doesn’t change who I am, though, doesn’t change that I’m trying to do the right thing.” He tilted his head with a small smile. “Hell, you being here, being _you_ , helped show me that.”

Gabriel shook his head slowly, disbelieving. “I don’t get you. Don’t think I ever will.” He sighed. “There’s more I want to show you, but I need a couple days. Gotta wrap my head around some stuff, y’know?”

“Course. That’s fine,” Sam replied, and then he did something that really threw the archangel for a loop. He stood, touching Gabriel’s shoulder again gently, and then he leaned down and kissed his forehead. When he pulled back, he offered another small smile and a wink before vanishing as he awoke in the real world.

Gabriel sat stunned for long moments.

-666-

It had clearly taken him a while to work up his nerve, but Dean finally cornered Sam that afternoon, while they were in the motel room doing research. Castiel was off on another lead, and Sam carefully refrained from commenting that it was probably a waste of time, just as the other ones had been. Faith… _hope_ …was all any of them really had anymore.

He was blinking blearily at his computer screen when Dean came over and sat on the other side of the bed, perched on the edge like he wanted to be able to flee at any moment. Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s up?” he asked, shutting his laptop because Dean had his serious face on. The one that clearly said, _We need to talk_.

“There something you need to be telling me?” Dean asked, apropos to nothing.

“Uh…don’t think so,” Sam replied, blinking.

“It’s just…you’re so…” Dean’s jaw worked as he cast about for what he wanted to say. “You’re _happy_ lately. I don’t know when the last time I saw that was, but it’s been a while.”

Sam blinked again. It was true, he _had_ been happier lately. Or more content, at least. Less angry, definitely. But he hadn’t thought he’d been blatantly obvious about it, and his brother didn’t usually notice stuff like that.

“So, I guess what I wanna know is, what’s goin’ on with you and Gabriel?”

Sam flushed, looking away. “Nothing.”

“Sam -”

“ _Nothing_ , Dean, honestly.” Sam ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “He’s a friend, he’s been helping me keep Lucifer out. That’s it.”

Dean’s gaze searched his, and Sam cursed the fact that his brother knew him better than anyone else ever could, even an archangel. “But you want there to be something.” It wasn’t a question.

“Can I just say that I really can’t believe we’re having this conversation?” Sam muttered.

“That’s not a no, Sam.” Dean was smirking. Sam sort of wanted to punch him, but he managed to refrain.

“It’s also really none of your business, Dean.”

“Not my business when my kid brother wants to get busy with a messenger of god who may or may not still be a little bit evil? Really?”

Sam’s temper was being held in check only in the vaguest sense. “Okay, first of all? He’s not evil! He’s not a damn _monster_. He’s the only reason I’m still even alive! And secondly, if you’re going to judge _him_ , you might as well judge _me_ too, because I’ve done things just as bad if not worse, and you keep telling me not to beat myself up for it, not to feel guilty. And thirdly -”

“Woah, woah, calm down there Sammy,” Dean said, raising his hands in surrender. His eyes, though, were sharp. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to trash the guy, I know he’s done a lot for you – for _all_ of us – lately, and Cas would kick my ass if he knew I said that.”

Sam’s jaw was clenched, but he slowly allowed himself to relax at Dean’s apology. Dean never apologized for _anything_ , so he basked in it a little.

Right up until Dean opened his mouth again. “So how long you been in love with him?”

The reign of control Sam had on his temper snapped, and his eyes flared. “I dunno Dean, how long have you been in love with Castiel?”

Dean’s eyes went wide, and he inhaled sharply.

“Yeah. I can give as good as I get, remember?” Sam looked away, took a steadying breath. “So…can we just agree that this conversation never happened, and that maybe it’s better if we stay out of each other’s personal business in the future?”

Dean nodded, too quickly, and stood. “Yeah…think that’s probably a good idea.” He took a few steps away, toward his side of the room, then stopped and turned, staring avidly at the floor. “Look, Sam, for what it’s worth…I’m okay with it,” he mumbled, then spun again and stalked out the door.

Sam stared after him for a long moment, then burst into incredulous, helpless laughter.

-666-

Gabriel felt the moment Castiel’s grace finally failed him, and he wasn’t the only angel to do so. He spread his wings and was almost instantly by his brother’s side, and even still, he was not fast enough.

Castiel was kneeling on the ground, glaring up at Zachariah, defiance oozing from every pore as one of Zachariah’s lackey stood over him, pressing down on his shoulder to keep him on the ground. He was easily dispatched of as soon as Gabriel appeared and assessed the situation. With a snap of his fingers, the lower-level angel vanished, and Gabriel turned to face Zachariah as Castiel stood on somewhat shaky legs next to him.

It was a fair bet that Zachariah wasn’t happy to see him, his jaw hanging open and his beady eyes wide and unblinking. “It _can’t_ be…”

“’Sup, Zach?” Gabriel said with a cocky smirk, taking a surreptitious step to the side, putting himself more in front of Castiel. “Long time no see!”

“ _Gabriel?_ ” Zachariah sputtered, his glare hateful.

“In the flesh.” Gabriel spread his arms wide. “What do you think? A little short, I know, but I was working with limited resources. It’s gotten me by okay, though.”

“Where…what have you been _doing?_ ” Zachariah spat, and Gabriel didn’t miss the small steps backward he was taking. His smirk widened.

“This and that,” Gabriel replied with a shrug. “So, listen, it’s been great catching up and all, but really, we gotta take off. Things to do, people to see, an apocalypse to stop. Y’know, the usual. Be seein’ you, Zach!” And before the angel could do more the give a shout of anger, Gabriel spun, raised two fingers to Castiel’s forehead, and brought them both home.

-666-

“Is he going to be okay?” Sam asked, his expression worried. It had been a long day, and he hadn’t liked leaving Dean on his own to watch over Castiel, but both Dean and Gabriel had vetoed the idea of him skipping sleep, too aware that it would make it easier for Lucifer to find him if he started slipping up.

Gabriel leaned back in his chair with a sigh, propping his feet up on the table. “I hope so,” he said. “He’s known this was coming for a while. If any angel should have been prepared for mortality, it’s Castiel. And he’s got Dean at his back.”

Sam nodded, but didn’t look entirely reassured. “I just wish he’d been able to find something, before it happened. He’s been clinging so tightly to the idea of finding God, to lose his chance is going to hurt him.”

Gabriel regarded him with a half-smile. “Maybe I’d agree, except he’s _not_ giving up the search. He just needs a little extra help now.”

Sam stared.

“Oh, what? Everything else I’ve done recently, up to and including openly declaring a side in this freaking war, and you’re surprised I’m gonna help my brother search for God now that he can’t on his own? Sammy. I find your lack of faith disturbing.” Gabriel shook his head sadly.

Blinking a few times, Sam finally said, “I thought you believed God was gone.”

“Gone. Not dead.” Gabriel sighed again, gazing up at the window high above them. “Truth is, no one knows. But Castiel believes He’s out there, believes it with everything he is, and I’m not going to be the one to kill that. His faith…nothing like it exists anywhere but in him, even now. So yeah, I’ll help him try to find Dad, even if I don’t necessarily think we’ll succeed.”

“Yeah,” Sam said with a snort. “You’re a real monster, Gabriel. Clearly.”

Gabriel’s eyes closed as he lowered his head. “I told you I still had things to show you.” He opened his eyes, caught Sam’s gaze. “Still up for it?”

Sam nodded, determined to see this through now that he’d begun it. “Where are we going this time?” he asked.

Gabriel’s expression twisted, his eyes sorrowful. “Home,” he whispered.

-666-

It had been hundreds of years since Gabriel had last allowed himself to remember Heaven. What he showed to Sam wasn’t as pure, or as powerful, or as glorious as the real thing, only an approximation that his mortal sight could handle. But it was still home, and it still made something inside him writhe in agony to remember it now.

It was all light and warmth and love, and all around them were beings that pulsated with radiance and spoke with music. His brothers and sisters, who he’d left so long ago. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Beside him, Sam was alternating between gazing around him in awe, and throwing worried glances at Gabriel. The archangel lifted a hand, and slowly the beings began to take on vaguely human shapes as he altered the memory just enough. One in particular, he shaped after the vessel he’d had for so long, so Sam would recognize what he was seeing.

Memory Gabriel had his eyes closed as in front of him, the two brightest angels in all of Heaven fought with each other, throwing words at each other that the Host of Heaven had never known before, because _hate_ and _anger_ had never existed before humanity was created.

“You _must_ listen to Him, Lucifer, He is our Father!”

“And he is _wrong_ , Michael!”

“Our Father is never wrong, it is not possible. Lucifer, if you do this, you know what will happen.”

“Yes, and that is still a better fate than bowing to those…those… _things_ he has created for himself. I will take the punishment he sees fit, and someday, all of Heaven will know that I was _right_.”

“You will be forcing _my_ hand, not His! It is His will that _I_ carry out your punishment should you do this. Please, don’t make me cast you down, brother. I cannot bear it!”

“You will have to, Michael, because I will never do as he wants and worship them. I refuse. And others will follow my lead, you know this.”

“You would tear Heaven apart over your pride?”

Gabriel – the one who had not yet cast himself to earth – opened his eyes suddenly and pushed his way between them. “Stop it! Please, both of you, stop! This is needless, why are you fighting? We are all brothers! Family! There must be some sort of compromise you can make, rather than all this talk of violence and war. Lucifer. Michael. _Please_.”

“There can be no compromise, not when He has deemed His Word to be the final law. Lucifer must bow before humanity, as must we all, or he will be cast down.”

“Then so be it. Whatever happens, it is our father that brings that fate upon you. Him and his new toys.”

And Lucifer was gone with a rush of wingbeats, leaving Michael gazing after him wretchedly, and Gabriel trembling with the knowledge of what was to come.

-666-

Sam knew what came after the memory Gabriel had shown him, knew that the war happened, that many angels died, and that Michael was forced to cast Lucifer into the Pit. He didn’t ask Gabriel to show him, _would_ never ask Gabriel to relive something so painful, so he wasn’t surprised when the next place Gabriel brought him was not Heaven again, but a forest bathed with sunlight that slanted in through a canopy of trees more green and alive than any he’d ever seen before.

It took him a long moment to pinpoint what was wrong with the forest, and when it clicked, his eyebrows drew together. There was no sound, anywhere, except for the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. There were no birdcalls, no insects chirping, no animals prowling anywhere. “Where are we?” he asked the archangel at his side, his voice loud in the utter silence.

“This forest had no name then, and doesn’t exist now. It used to be sort of a go-between from Heaven to Earth…a safe place for the angels to land when they came here seeking their vessels, and the place where humans came to feel closest to God. This is where Eden used to be, even before this memory.” Gabriel’s voice was low, and for the first time in a long while, he almost looked peaceful. “This was where I came to escape, after the war was over and Heaven wasn’t much more than a war-ravaged battlefield. It took them a long time to even notice I was gone.” The last was said in a near whisper, and Sam could clearly see the sadness lingering in his eyes.

As though brought about by his words, an intense light filled the area in front of them, and Sam knew without needing to be told that it was Gabriel, coming here to escape his family and the pain they represented. _His_ Gabriel stood by his side and watched with a forced sort of detachment as some type of energy swirled around the powerful beam of light, drawn to it like a gravitational pull. They watched as it pressed in on the light, smothered it…watched as it coalesced and began to take shape…watched as ever so slowly, it became human.

Sam was wide-eyed when he turned to look at the archangel. “If angels can create their own vessels, then why -”

“Most can’t,” Gabriel said, cutting him off, knowing exactly what Sam was about to ask. “I’m one of the few, and it takes an amount of energy you can’t imagine. And to create a vessel that allowed me to cut myself off from the Host?” He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “I can’t even tell you how painful it is. Basically, I’m bound to this vessel for the rest of my life. If something ever happened to it, it’s gone, and I ain’t coming back to earth no matter how much I want to. Same with Anna and the vessel I was able to make for her.”

Sam stared at him gape-mouthed. “ _You_ were the reason Anna got her body back?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I owed her a favor, she came to collect. She was the only one I ever told how to find me. She’s the only one I trusted when I left.”

Sam couldn’t do anything other than turn back and watch Memory Gabriel, naked and shivering with the new sensation of cold, as he looked sadly around the forest, like he was trying to memorize it, like he knew he’d never be back here.

He held up a hand, stared at it as though he’d never seen one before, and Sam realized with startling clarity that, until that point, he probably hadn’t. And then he closed his eyes, snapped his fingers…

…And was gone.

Somewhere deep in the forest, birdsong began to fill the air.

-666-

Though the memory was over, and Gabriel too weak to be able to show Sam any more, they didn’t leave the forest. For a long time, they simply stood, lost in their own thoughts, Sam staring at the place where the him of the past had vanished from, and he content to simply watch Sam. He longed to know what the hunter was thinking, but was unwilling to pry into his thoughts uninvited this time, desperately afraid he would find something he didn’t want to see.

It seemed that Sam, however, was becoming adept at knowing what Gabriel was thinking at any given moment, because he turned then, regarding the archangel with an expression so open that for a moment, something caught in Gabriel’s chest. “Thank you,” he said softly, reaching out to grab Gabriel’s hand. “Thank you for showing me all of this. Thank you for trusting me.”

Gabriel’s laughter had a slightly hysterical edge. “You’re thanking _me_ for trusting _you?_ ” he asked incredulously. “Sam, what planet do you live on?”

Sam’s lips quirked into a grin. “I’m serious. You showing me all these memories…it means a lot to me. I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

Gabriel shrugged uncomfortably. He went to pull his hand away, but Sam grasped it tightly, pulling him closer. Dazed, the archangel stumbled forward a step, staring up at the hunter. “Sam, what -”

Sam cut him off by sliding a hand up his jaw, curling it around the back of his neck. In a state of shock, Gabriel didn’t even notice the hunter leaning forward until suddenly Sam’s lips were pressed against his. He gasped sharply, and Sam used his stunned surprise to slip his tongue into the archangel’s mouth.

Gabriel moaned low in his throat, his eyes sliding shut as he cautiously allowed himself to take the gift that was being given to him.

It was only a moment later that Sam pulled back, and Gabriel blinked his eyes open to search his face. “What was that all about?” he asked hoarsely, wanting to take a large step back but unwilling to break the connection they still had.

Sam looked down at where he was still grasping Gabriel’s hand. He gave a very small smile and dragged his eyes back to the archangel’s. “That was about me being kind of stupidly in love with you. Whatever you choose to do with it…well, that’s basically up to you. But after everything…I thought you should know.”

Gabriel had no idea what he’d done to deserve this. He had no idea if he had any right at all to step forward, back into Sam’s space, and press himself against the hunter. He was fairly certain he definitely hadn’t earned the privilege of being allowed to reach up and tangle his free hand in Sam’s hair, yanking back down gently to claim his mouth again.

He didn’t think he deserved any of it, but he took it anyway, reveled in the way his heart swelled and his breath stuttered as they each took all the other had to give, as their souls entwined as easily as their bodies, as the ground rumbled and the sky flashed as they lay together in the aftermath.

He gave of himself and took from Sam in equal measure, and after, he silently gave thanks to his Father for the first time in millennia.

-666-

Sam stumbled through the next day in a dazed, euphoric sort of bliss. Not even Dean’s knowing smirk could dim the glow inside him.

Castiel was coping with his new mortality, and Gabriel was now with them on a more permanent basis, unwilling to leave them without any sort of angelic protection. He carved sigils into Castiel’s ribs, and then tucked his grace deep enough within his vessel that it wouldn’t be easily sensed or tracked by the other angels. They all hoped it would be enough, and Sam allowed himself to relax in his happy contentment for the rest of the day.

As it turned out, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

Lucifer found him that very night.

-666-

It was obvious to Gabriel almost instantly that something was very, very wrong. For one thing, Sam had become accustomed over the last several weeks to being put to sleep by the archangel’s grace. The last time he’d fallen asleep on his own had been before he’d asked Gabriel for help. And then there was the more worrying thing…when Gabriel tried to slip inside his head to meet with him in their dreamscape, he couldn’t.

Sam’s dreams had been warded against him, and he couldn’t wake the hunter.

Gabriel didn’t think he’d ever experienced panic in his very long life. But that’s definitely what was coursing through him now as he yelled for Castiel, who had taken the room next door with Dean.

“What is it?” Castiel demanded as he burst in a moment later, Dean close behind.

“Lucifer,” Gabriel grit out, his jaw clenched tight against the rising tide of fear. “Lucifer found him. I knew it might happen, but I didn’t expect it so soon, and Sam wasn’t prepared, he wasn’t guarded at all today. I can’t get to him, Castiel.” Some of what he was feeling must have been clearly written in his eyes, because behind the fallen angel, Dean’s own eyes widened at his expression.

Castiel stepped forward, placed a hand on his shoulder. “What do you need me to do?”

Gabriel looked from him to Dean and back, rubbed a hand over his face. “I may have a way. It’s not foolproof, but it’s a precaution I put in place… You’ve dreamwalked with Dean before, haven’t you? So you have a connection to him?”

“Of course,” Castiel said, tilting his head.

“Dean doesn’t realize it, but he’s dreamwalked with Sam before. I made sure of it, weeks ago. I thought it would be a useful connection if something like this happened.”

Castiel’s expression cleared, understanding lighting his eyes. “A bridge. You created a back door to Sam’s dreams.”

Gabriel nodded. “I can’t enter Dean’s dreams directly because you claimed him as your charge, and it would alert Lucifer to what I was doing if I intruded on that connection directly. But if I slip into his dreams _through_ yours…”

“Then you can slip into Sam’s through his. It’s a good plan.”

“Um, hi. I’m a little lost here,” Dean said snappishly. “Anyone care to fill me in?”

Gabriel whirled on him, ready to explode, but Castiel’s hand squeezing his shoulder stopped him from blasting the hunter into oblivion. He took a breath, forced himself to calm. When he was steadier, he explained. “Lucifer is blocking my way to get to Sam directly. I created a link between you and your brother weeks ago so that I’d have a back way in if I needed it, but I can’t use _that_ directly either because it would be trespassing on another angel’s…territory, so to speak, even if he’s lacking in grace at the moment. That would alert Lucifer. But if I dreamwalk with Castiel, there’s a bridge from him to you, from you to Sam, and I can get in and get _your_ brother the hell away from _mine_.”

Dean took this all in with a stoic expression, then glanced over at Castiel, who nodded. “Then what the hell are we waiting for? Do it already.” He stepped forward and grasped Castiel’s hand, tugging him over to the other bed. They both lay down, Dean’s head resting on Castiel’s shoulder as he looked back over to the archangel, his expression almost challenging.

Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment, relief sharp and sweet. He couldn’t have done this without permission from both the parties involved, and he hadn’t known how far Dean’s trust in him extended.

He walked over to the bed, and at Castiel’s nod, touched both of their foreheads, sending them to sleep. Then he took a breath, and allowed himself to be swept into the dreams of a fallen angel.

It was hard to understand at first, brilliant pulses of color on a dark background, Castiel sitting floating in the center, eyes bright and untroubled as they never were in the world outside. When he caught sight of Gabriel, he stood, glanced around with a small smile on his face. “When I left Heaven and traveled to Hell to rescue Dean, and then later walked upon the earth, colors were the first thing that ever caused me to _feel_. They hold a special place in my heart.”

Gabriel allowed his lips to curve upwards, happy to know for certain now that his brother truly was content in the life he’d chosen for himself. “Gonna go out on a limb and bet your favorite color is green, too.”

Castiel ducked his head in acknowledgement, and Gabriel grinned before turning to find the link to his next destination. He was stopped by Castiel’s hand on his arm. When he turned back, his brother’s expression was troubled. “Be safe, Gabriel. You may be able to outrun Lucifer out there, but here in dreams, he has power over you.”

“I’ll be careful,” Gabriel assured him, and stepped toward the light he’d caught sight of that could only lead to Dean’s dreamscape.

  
Dean Winchester’s dreams were bright and sunlit and peaceful in a way his real life rarely was. A serene lake lay before him, and Dean sat at the edge of a dock, his knees drawn up, arms wrapped loosely around them as he gazed out. At Gabriel’s appearance, he scooted over and allowed the archangel to sit next to him, which he did with mild trepidation and a great deal of reluctance, ever aware of how much time may be passing the longer he took.

“Won’t keep you here,” Dean said, reading Gabriel like the open book he wasn’t supposed to be. “Just, watch your back.” He didn’t look at Gabriel as he spoke. He didn’t have to. “And you _get_ my damn brother back, no matter what it takes.”

“You better believe it,” Gabriel said firmly, unwilling to believe there could be any other outcome.

Dean nodded. “Stop wastin’ time here then. Your little ‘bridge’ is at the beginning of the dock. Definitely wasn’t a door there before,” he said with a raised eyebrow as he looked behind them.

Gabriel followed his gaze, and sure enough, standing right in the middle of an open plot of land was a large oak doorway. “Huh,” he said, standing back up. He made his way over to the doorway, staring at the brass knob that he only had to turn to finally make it to Sam.

“You both get your asses back in one piece, you goddamn bastard archangel!” Dean yelled after him, his expression stony, which for Dean, was almost fond.

Gabriel nodded once, grasped the doorknob, and turned. Taking a breath, he stepped through.

  
He stepped into a circle of flame. Every shelf – every _book_ – was alight, the heat oppressive, scorching, but not deadly, because this was still a dream after all. Black smoke rose, curled in dark wisps toward the domed glass ceiling, blocking the usual natural light, and Gabriel could have wept at seeing so much tranquility destroyed in instants. But dreams could be re-created, and Sam could not, so he forced himself to step deeper into the room, forced his eyes to focus on Sam at its center, laid out on his back, bound and gagged by chains that had sprung out of the floor itself.

Lucifer knelt over him, tossing a thin dagger from one hand to the other as he looked down at the hunter in silent contemplation. Gabriel’s blood burned, his grace quaked within him, and he could not stop the growl that rose from his throat.

Lucifer turned his head and smirked. “It’s good to see you, brother,” he said. “I was just about to start this little ritual I found, but you’re free to take a seat and watch.”

Gabriel had never had the power that Michael and Lucifer did, had never been strong enough to come between his brothers or to even stand his ground against one of them alone. That didn’t stop him from stepping forward, his hands clenched, grace rising within him, ready to burst forth at his calling. “Get away from him, Lucifer.”

“Well, well. It seems the family peacekeeper has finally come into his own,” Lucifer murmured, standing. He glanced back down at Sam with a smirk. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back for you momentarily.” He faced Gabriel fully, spread his arms wide. “Well, brother. Here I am. What do you intend to do about it? Last time you ran and hid, and we see how well that worked for you and your _charge_.”

Until this moment, Gabriel really hadn’t had any idea _what_ he intended to do about Lucifer. His best hope had been to get Sam out, and if he didn’t make it himself…well, he was expendable, and Sam wasn’t.

But as he stood there facing off with the brother he had always both loved and feared in equal measure, something was happening to him. Grace was rising, unbidden, flowing out between his fingers, spiraling around him, the glow of it pure and brilliant against the fire’s blaze. Lucifer’s eyes were turning wary, his posture tense. “What are you doing, Gabriel?”

Gabriel didn’t answer, _couldn’t_ answer, because his head was thrown back as an overflow of grace _exploded_ out of him, consuming everything in the room, a light that was almost blinding even to _him_ in its intensity. He was vaguely aware of a scream, could only sense enough to know that it wasn’t Sam, and then he was falling to the ground in a heap, and moments later gentle hands were turning him, fingers stroking through his hair as he fought to catch breath that he wasn’t supposed to _really_ need.

“Gabriel? Gabriel, c’mon, you’re not supposed to black out on me, not here. Gabriel. Gabriel!”

He faded out to Sam’s voice, Sam’s wonderful, beautiful, perfect voice ringing in his ears. Sam was safe. Nothing else mattered.

-666-

Sam was pacing the small room. Castiel stood at the window, and Dean watched him from one of the beds, both their gazes worriedly darting from him to the figure on the other bed, who was perfectly still and unmoving, even after three days.

In those three days, Sam still had been able to find no clues as to exactly what had happened. He remembered Lucifer waiting for him in his dreamscape, remembered him capturing Sam and speaking of a ritual that would bind Sam’s dreams to him and him alone. He remembered Gabriel appearing just in time, and he remembered a light so powerful he’d had to turn away, and even closing his eyes hadn’t blocked it entirely. When the light had faded, Lucifer was gone and Gabriel was in a crumpled heap on the floor.

He’d woken shortly after that, but the archangel had not. And somehow, Lucifer hadn’t come around to visit his dreams since then, despite them not being able to be hidden from him until Gabriel awoke.

Castiel didn’t even have any idea what had happened, and somehow, that seemed foreboding to Sam.

He sighed and stepped back over to the bed, sitting on the edge and taking Gabriel’s hand in his, praying with everything he had for the archangel to wake up, to be all right.

“Hey, Sam, Cas and I are gonna go out, get some food,” Dean said a few minutes later. Sam looked up, hadn’t even noticed his brother standing and conversing with the angel. “There anything you want?”

Sam waved a hand tiredly. “Whatever’s easiest. Just get me whatever Castiel has.” His gaze slid back to Gabriel, and he was barely aware of the door closing behind Dean and Castiel as they left.

He gripped Gabriel’s hand tighter, ran his other hand through the archangel’s hair, closing his eyes wearily. “I don’t know what you did, Gabriel, but you need to fix it and come back to me,” he murmured. “I can’t do this, any of this, without you. I’m too broken, and you’re the only thing keeping me together anymore. You can’t just…weasel your way into my heart, make me fall in love with you, and then leave, damn it. You don’t _get_ to leave me, you got it?”

Beneath his hand, he felt Gabriel stir just slightly, and his heart jumped. “Gabriel? You with me? C’mon, wake up, damn you.”

“So bossy,” the archangel murmured, his eyes still closed, his voice slurred. Sam could have cried upon hearing it.

“Yeah, well, you might as well get used to it now.” His hand traced down Gabriel’s face, and hazel eyes slowly opened and met his own. “Hey there,” Sam whispered, his voice choked.

“Heya, Sammy. Miss me?” And only Gabriel could have managed to look cocky right then, when his eyes were still fighting to stay open and lethargy was practically oozing from him.

“If you ever do that to me again, I’ll find a way to smite you myself.” Sam’s voice was threatening, but his hand was gentle still as he slid it down to the angel’s chest, pressed it against a steady heartbeat.

“Duly noted,” Gabriel replied, already beginning to sound stronger. “Help me sit up?”

Sam did so against his better judgment, but couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped when Gabriel’s hand grazed underneath his t-shirt, found the handprint that marked his hip. Heat flashed through him, and he pressed his hand to the archangel’s. “What happened, Gabriel?” he asked, needing to know for sure.

Something passed over Gabriel’s face that Sam didn’t recognize as his eyes slid away. “I don’t know, exactly. I know what it _felt_ like, though.” At Sam’s inquiring look, he said very quietly, “It felt like my Father.”

Sam started. “What? But -”

“Like I said, I don’t know for sure. It’s just…a theory.”

“So, then Lucifer…”

Gabriel shook his head. “He’s still around, somewhere. But he’s blocked from your dreams now. He’ll never be able to find them again.” His expression was cloudy for a moment, but then a smile broke through, and when he looked back at Sam, it was like looking into the face of the sun. “But hey, even if it wasn’t Dad, it doesn’t matter.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Why?”

“Because we’re going to _win_ , Sam!” Gabriel said, his eyes lit with grace. His voice was certain, and left no room for argument or doubt.

Sam blinked. “What makes you so sure?” He looked away, his jaw tight. “What makes you so sure I can keep doing this, keep saying no? Even if he can’t reach my dreams, he has other ways.”

Gabriel grabbed his hand and pulled the hunter closer to him, pressing it against his chest. Warmth flowed into his fingertips, through his hand, down his arm, slowly flooding his entire being. He gasped sharply, his eyes whipping to the archangel’s. Gabriel smiled. “Because you gave me my _faith_ back, Sam Winchester. You gave me my hope, and my compassion, and my love. That’s what saved us both in the dreamscape. All of that. If my Father _was_ there, he only tapped into it, he didn’t create it. _You_ did. You made me an _angel_ again, just by believing in me. You made me so much more by _loving_ me. How could I possibly have any less faith in you? In _all of us?_ ”

Sam took a shuddering breath, suddenly overwhelmed. “I don’t know if I can be strong enough,” he whispered.

“You will be,” Gabriel said, soft and sure. “And I’m gonna be right there with you so I can say I told you so at the end of it all. And we’re _going to win_.”

And as he pulled Sam in for a kiss that left him breathless and aching in so many ways, Sam found that he believed him.


End file.
